


Wait

by Vegetableswillhavetheirrevenge



Series: Sam and Jack (AKA: the Jam Fam) [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (And some Dean too), (Another sucky title but what the hey), (How people manage to sum up the entire theme of a work into a single title I'll never know), AND SO HELP ME I PLAN ON GIVING IT TO THEM, And I doubt I ever will be, Another 14.19 alternate ending, Gen, Jam Fam, MY PRECIOUS JAM FAM DESERVES BETTER DARN IT, because i'm still not over it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 16:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18703474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vegetableswillhavetheirrevenge/pseuds/Vegetableswillhavetheirrevenge
Summary: Sam has way more than just *second* thoughts about Dean's box plan. This time, he listens to them.





	Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Look at this. Only a day later and I'm already back with another 14.19 fix-it. Because IT NEEDED FIXING, PEOPLE!!! I hope this goes some way towards easing the hearts and minds of those of you who, like me, are still suffering over the final stretch of that episode.

It was just as Dean was reaching for the box’s lid that Sam reached his limit. His mind- near paralysed until now with what seemed like an eternity’s worth of compounded grief- it… well, it… _stuttered_ , in a way.

“Wait.”

It wasn’t until Dean’s careful warning glance and Jack’s furrowed brow sunk into his awareness that he fully comprehended the fact that he had moved. His right hand was raised now, curled around cool, hard metal and preventing its descent. Stopping it from reaching its goal.

The others spoke at the same time- one sharp (“ _Sam_.”), one confused (“Sam, what-?”)- but he couldn’t reply. Words (or sounds. Or some endless, guttural cry for this non-stop suffering to just _end_ already, perhaps) stuck in his throat, and guilt pooled low in his stomach, and this Jack’s callous declarations of “The Accident” and “I guess I snapped” swirled and mixed among the innocence of “I thought lying was wrong” and the bloodied nose and soulful eyes of “I love you. I love all of you” and he just-

He just…

If he had had a bad feeling about this before, it was _nothing_ compared to what had him frozen now.

Words filtered slowly into his mind, and it took him longer than it probably should have to realise that it was because Dean was speaking to him- words slow and pointed and tinged with jagged edges of anger and fear and about a million different other things-

“-think you’re doing, Sam? We need to close this so we can get back to finishing fixing Jack’s soul, re _member?_ ”

“I-”

The words stuck again, and panicked, uncertain eyes flickered from brother to son to brother to son tobrothertosontobrothertosonandgodhelphimhecouldn’tbreatheandeverythinghurtand-

“Sam?”

The question brought him crashing back to Earth, and Sam forced in a faltering breath, strained and shaky and perfectly representative of the multitude of contradictory realities fighting for control of him right now.

Jack was _good_ but Jack had killed Mom.

His heart yearned to show mercy but mercy only ever led to more and more death.

Sam’s judgement couldn’t be trusted but trust was all that had been in Jack’s eyes as he lay down.

Jack was dangerous and unstable but Jack had agreed without a moment’s hesitation to a fake plan to restore his soul.

Mom was dead because of Jack but Mom wouldn’t have even been alive in the first place if Jack hadn’t saved her.

Soulless people couldn’t _feel_ but Jack had been _desperate_ to bring Mom back to life.

Jack was _wrong_ and _bad_ and _killing people_ and _out of control_ but _he had come when Sam called_.

Jack was-

Jack was-

Jack was _here_ and he was lying in a _coffin_ and he was propped now on one elbow, while the other hand reached uncertainly for Sam and Sam’s name was once more on his lips and Sam didn’t know whether he wanted to lean in and hug him or else lash out at him for _Mom_ or just-

Another hand flashed forward, batting Jack’s away, and both their heads whipped around just in time to witness the moment of unrestrainable fury hide itself back behind the veneer of strained care and comfort with which Dean smiled ( _grimaced, almost_ ) at them now.

“We can’t waste time here if we want to finish making this _spell, Sam_.”

Sam’s breath hitched again. His fingers tightened even further around the metal. He was supposed to be playing a role here- offering up a comforting smile as Dean closed this lid and locked the threat away forever- but he just needed to _know_.

“I- I just need a second, okay. Just- just a second. I need to-” Tearing his gaze away from the warning still blaring loud and clear from Dean’s eyes, Sam looked down at the boy who had come to mean more to him than he had ever dreamed possible, and- just this one final time- allowed his heart to lead him where it would.

“Why did you agree to this so easily?”

Jack’s brows furrowed even further. He sat up (not seeming to notice Dean’s instinctive half-step back, or the way his would-be jailor’s fingers twitched around an imaginary weapon), fixed his eyes on Sam’s, and tilted his head.

“Because you asked me to,” he stated, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if of course _anyone_ would agree to be locked inside an inescapable coffin just because _Sam_ had said it was necessary.

“But _why_?”

Further confusion. “Because this way I can’t hurt anyone while you fix my soul.”

“And-” Sam’s voice faltered once more, but he made himself swallow. Made himself finish the question. “And why don’t you want to hurt anyone?”

For the first time, some sort of understanding flared in Jack’s eyes. Some vague hint that maybe he was starting to comprehend that there was more to this than he had been told. His gaze darted apprehensively from Sam to Dean and back, and something which seemed remarkably like _remorse_ flickered in those familiar yet currently alien blue depths.

“Because… because…” The furrow in his brow suddenly morphed slightly, twisting back into that contemplative expression which had always reminded Sam so sharply of Castiel- the one both of them always wore when they weren’t quite sure how to fully express what they were feeling or thinking. The comparison hurt now, stirring up a fondness in Sam’s chest which most people would probably tell him was absolutely _disgusting_ to feel for his Mom’s killer, and a burst of self-hatred turned to a glimmer of nausea in his throat.

 _God_ there was something _seriously_ wrong with him.

Another question dropped from his lips before he even realised he was asking it.

“How did you feel after you killed Mary?”

And just for an instant- a tiny, barely-there instant which passed by so quickly Sam was certain even Dean hadn’t seen it- Jack blinked, and he was _himself_ again. The caring, loving, overwhelmed _child_ who had slotted so seamlessly into Sam’s life.

The instant faded, but still _something_ remained in the depths of those eyes.

“I felt…” Jack wavered, his own words almost as stilted now as Sam’s own thoughts. “I felt… _sad_ ,” he settled on eventually, head dropping so he could study his upturned palms. “And… and _scared_. And… and _guilty_.” His hands clenched into fists, and he raised bewildered, beseeching eyes to meet Sam’s yet again. “Why can I only feel the painful things now?”

And it was that sentence- not even the words, really, but more just the _confusion_ behind them- so similar and yet so blatantly different from how that part of Sam which had wandered the world without him so many years ago now had felt _all_ the time- which made up his mind. He dropped his head, the horrifying realisation of what they had been about to do breaking through his grief to hit him with the force of a thousand trucks, and shook his head.

“I can’t do this.” Lifting his left hand to mirror his right, he cast a mournful look Dean’s way, apologies bleeding from his eyes. “I can’t.” Then, with a solid heave (and with Dean’s exclamation of “Sam, no!” ringing out in the background), he thrust the box’s lid away and took a solid step back.

“Sam, what are you doing?!”

Sam shook his head again. “He doesn’t deserve this, Dean. Soul or no.” And god help him but, despite what everyone else was saying, he couldn’t help the sudden certainty he felt that…

“HE KILLED MOM!” Dean suddenly roared. All pretence of forgiveness gone, he surged forward, fury in every line of his face and body as he fisted his hands in Sam’s shirt. Pain lanced through Sam in response, and he sagged where he stood, eyes closing against the betrayal he knew he was about to create.

“I know.”

“HE _KILLED_ MOM!”

The desire to keep his eyes closed was nearly overwhelming, but Sam forced them to open regardless. He needed Dean to see that he understood- that, despite everything, _he_ was still angry, too-and the only way that could happen was if he looked his brother _right_ in the eye as he said again-

“I know.”

The fury lingered on Dean’s face for what felt like an eternity more- a battle raging in every twitch and shudder which pulled and twisted at his features- before finally, in a rush of opened dams, collapsing into a broken well of agony and loss and betrayal and disgust, all of it coated with a single spark of understanding that _Sam wasn’t going to let him do this_. His hands fell away, the tremor in them obvious and unrestrained and, without another word- without even a single look back- he marched out of the room…

And was gone.

Knowing beyond a doubt that that expression- along with the rush of agonised guilt which accompanied it- would haunt his dreams (and, likely, every interaction he was permitted to have with his brother) for a _long_ time to come, Sam let his eyes wander over to the hurt understanding which had now dawned on the face of the room’s now sole other occupant.

Still in the box, Jack stared back at him.

“You tricked me.”

“…I did.”

“You were going to lock me up. For _ever_.”

Sam’s heart seized in his chest, and he wondered distantly at the fact that it was still beating at all. With all it had been through these past years, one would think it would have given up long before now. “…We were.”

Confusion turned to anger turned to fury turned to pain ( _and_ god _that was another face he’d never be able to forget_ ) turned back to confusion, and Jack tilted his head yet again.

“Why did you stop?”

“I-”

…And once again he was rendered mute. What on Earth _could_ he say here? How could he explain it to Jack, or to Dean, when he couldn’t even explain it to him _self?_

Jack still didn’t stand up. He looked down instead, hands coming out to touch gently against the sides of what could so easily have become his eternal home, before turning a puzzled expression once more Sam’s way.

“I killed Mary,” he stated, the calm, casual callousness of the words every bit as agonising as his ‘ _The Accident_ ’ had been just a few short minutes ago. The only sign that he cared about what he was saying at _all_ was just in the very faintest stilling of his hands as they moved slowly down the metal sides. “I don’t have a soul. You’re supposed to hate me now.”

And, out of all the hundreds and thousands of possible reasons which could have come out of his mouth, somehow the one which made it first was:

“You’re still Jack.”

And finally, _finally_ , Jack moved at last. Climbing out of the box (which Sam was now determined to find a way to destroy at the earliest possible opportunity), he stood in front of Sam, small and lonely and lost, and repeated, “I killed Mary.”

Pain. Inevitable, and every bit as sharp as before. He didn’t bother trying to hide the flinch. “I know. And I’m still- I don’t-” He stopped. Took another breath. Forced himself to acknowledge it, because to do otherwise would just be yet another lie. “I’m still angry about that. And I don’t know how long it will take me to be able to fully forgive you. But… but I know it was an accident. And I know some part of you is still hurting over it-” _There._ Yet another flash of distress which seemed to surprise Jack as much as it seemed to wound him. The distress quickly gave way to denial, though.

“I _can’t_ be hurting. I don’t have a soul.”

“Neither did I, once.” He saw the slight widening of Jack’s eyes, and the way his eyebrows rose just the tiniest fraction of an inch, and he knew he would have to explain that at some point. Just another of the seemingly endless list of twisted ways in which Jack’s life seemed destined to mirror his own. In lieu of that for now, however, he instead settled for somewhat of an awkward not-quite-a-smile. “But, to be honest,” he breathed in, then out, and this time it was _him_ who ever so slightly angled his head to the side, “I don’t- I’m not entirely sure you- I’m fairly certain you’ve got at least a _piece_ of it left.”

“…What?”

“When I didn’t have _my_ soul,” he explained, still more stiffly than was probably best, but still unable to completely rid himself of the wariness their current situation had made fester inside him, “I didn’t feel _anything_. Not in the way you seem to, at least. If it had been me, and _I_ was the one who had accidentally killed M- killed Mom, then I would never have even _cared_ enough to try to bring her back.” The words tore at his throat, harsh and poisonous, but no less true because of it. His entire skin itched with the shame of it. “Hell, I might have even killed the rest of you, too, if I thought it was the only way to stop you from taking me out first. You, though-” That same fondness from before flared in his chest, so wrong and yet somehow so _natural._ “You _cared_ , Jack. You _tried._ ”

This time, as he looked down at the wide-eyed shock which stared back up at him, the hint of a smile he attempted felt just a fraction of a sliver more real.

“I don’t know how much of your soul is left but, as long as you still want to be with us- as long as you’re still willing to let us help you- I’ll do my best to help you regain the rest, Jack. It’s my fault this happened to you in the first place. And I’m not about to let my- to let my son rot away. Least of all because of something _I_ did to him.”

The horror in that statement was undeniable, though the complete truth of it was only just hitting home now. All of this- _all of it_ \- it was all _his_ fault anyway. Because _he_ hadn’t been able to let Jack go in the first place. Because _he_ had convinced Jack to tie his powers to his soul. Because _he_ had enabled the situation which had allowed Michael to escape. Because _he_ had been too caught up in his own failures and grief to realise the true depth of what Jack had been going through. Because _he_ had let Nick live.

Because _he_ had sent Jack back for Mom in the first place.

All of this…

It was because of him.

And he’d been about to let _Jack_ suffer for it.

The disgust struck like lightning, bright and burning and so painfully, _blindingly_ strong that it may well have driven him to his knees right then and there were it not for the strong yet tender hand which suddenly caught a hold of his arm. Light-headed and shaking under the all-consuming _guilt_ and _shame_ of it all, Sam opened eyes he hadn’t even realised had slammed tightly shut, and was met by a trust he didn’t deserve and the faintest little flicker of a love which shouldn’t even be _possible_ right now.

“Okay.” Jack said. “Okay.”

And despite the fact that those were the only words spoken, Sam could have sworn there was more which passed between them.

_Because we’re family._

_Because I trust you._

Theirs wasn’t a conventional family. And things were still… so, _so_ far from alright. But they had been through so much together, ever since the day of Jack’s birth.

So maybe. Just maybe. Maybe they could get through this, too.

Together.

**Author's Note:**

> And there we have it. Again, I'm going more for the bittersweet angle here, 'cos as much as I want everything to be perfect again, this kind of situation isn't one which can be so easily overcome. But this way they're at least *together,* darn it. And we all know the Jam Fam can get through anything if they put their minds to it!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, and please feel free to let me know what you thought. ^_^


End file.
